


Broken String

by Leela



Series: Music Under the Skin [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Aftercare, M/M, implied BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac's been left swimming in sub-space, and Tommy seems to be the only one interested in taking care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken String

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta** : Minxie, Montmorency, Thrace_Adams
> 
>  **A/N** : This story is a complete AU. These are not the actual people, nor does this 'verse bear much resemblance to their actual lives.

After the second time it happens, Tommy makes sure he arrives at rehearsal before anyone else. It about kills him to do it, because he's lousy at being anything but late, but he needs to know. He can't — won't — help Isaac unless he's certain.

A few weeks later, as he watches Ravi and Isaac arrive at rehearsal for the next Heartless show, Tommy's so sure about what's going on between them that he's ready to string Ravi up by his balls and leave him dangling. No one treats his friend like this and gets away with it. He pushes that aside though. Taking care of Isaac's far more important.

"Hey," Tommy says, keeping his voice low and gentle, knowing that Isaac can't handle his anger right now. "How're you doing?"

Isaac misses the beat he's been drumming with his right hand against his thigh, tilts his head, and squints at Tommy. ""M good."

"Tommy!" Ravi bounds over and loops an arm around Tommy's head, pulling it into his shoulder.

"Fuck off," Tommy says, shoving Ravi away a bit harder than usual. He loses a couple of hairs in the process but it's so fucking worth it.

"What the hell?" Ravi flips Tommy off. He's clearly about to say something else when Justin slams through the door, guitar case in hand. Instead, he takes it out on Justin, growling, "You're late."

Tommy's sure he's the only one who notices the way Isaac flinches at that tone, the way Isaac falters and grabs at a post. Isaac was going to his knees, moving on instinct, and any doubts Tommy had about whether or not Isaac has been left swimming in sub-space are blown away in those few seconds. He fucking _knows_ and he fucking wants to kill Ravi.

It's not the right time, though. Not with Justin and Ross already riffing on their guitars, adjusting the sound and getting ready to play. Still, he can't just leave Isaac like that.

"C'mon," Tommy says to Isaac. "We gotta get set up."

"Yeah." Isaac sways for a moment then starts to move. He's drumming that beat against his thigh again and walking to the rhythm. His balance is off, though, as if he's lost any sense of his center. And that shit is not on. Not when Tommy's seen what Isaac can do in yoga class.

Water, Tommy decides, and snags a couple of cold bottles out of the cooler. He hesitates briefly, his hand hovering over a can of PBR, but closes the lid without taking it. This can't be about him. Not right now.

Isaac is zoning out, running a stick over one of his cymbals, when Tommy reaches him. The shivery sound goes right through Tommy, raising goosebumps on his skin.

Gripping the edge of the cymbal to mute it, Tommy hands Isaac a bottle of water. "Drink," he says, enforcing the word with an edge of command.

There's no hesitation. Isaac puts down his sticks, and he's drunk a quarter of the bottle before he pauses. Then he looks up at Tommy, wide-eyed.

"Good." Tommy wraps a hand around the back of Isaac's neck, pressing in lightly, massaging the soft skin and too-relaxed muscles. He feels a sigh run through Isaac. "You ready to play?"

Another wide-eyed look, as the double meaning gets through Isaac's haze, and then Isaac says, "I can't—" He cuts off as Tommy tightens his hand on Isaac's neck.

"Yeah, you can," Tommy says, "and I'll take care of you properly after we're done here. But for right now, just hold on as best you can."

Giving him a nod, Isaac almost drops the bottle as he puts it down on the small table beside him. "It was slippery," he says, lowering his head as if awaiting a reprimand.

Anger flashes through Tommy again, just seeing that Isaac expects to be punished for something so damn trivial. And just like that he's back to wanting to kill Ravi, or send him back to school to learn the fucking basics. When he trusts himself to speak, Tommy pats Isaac's shoulder and says, "Yeah. Just make sure your hands are dry."

He walks away, over to the solace of his Strat, but not before he sees Isaac rub his hands on his jeans before picking up his sticks again.

"Killer." Ravi sneers at Tommy. "If you think you can manage it."

Tommy flips his hair out of his eyes, arches an eyebrow at Ravi, and snaps out the first chord in acceptance of his challenge. There's no fucking way he's letting Ravi have Isaac back, even if Isaac doesn't choose him.

Before anything else can happen between them, Ross picks up the bass line and Justin and Isaac join in. They're killing it, but Tommy can't lose himself in the music. He's too aware of Isaac, unable to not check on him, to not be aware of every moment when Isaac doesn't quite play like he usually does.

They're deep into the next song, _Ex BF_ , when a loud bang from outside, followed by guys screaming at each other, fucks everything up.

Justin hits the wrong notes, Isaac misses the beat, and Ravi stops singing. Abruptly. He drags his hand through his hair, cursing when his fingers get caught in the snarls, and Isaac fumbles his sticks, dropping one onto a drum.

When Ravi spins around and stalks toward Isaac, Tommy has had it. He reaches for the tuning peg and cranks the E string up high and fast. The worn string resists briefly then snaps under the pressure. When that noise isn't enough to distract Ravi, Tommy flips the switch to the bridge pickup and steps back, bringing his guitar in line with the stacks. Feedback whines through the speakers just as Ravi moves in front of them. As he'd hoped, Ravi turns on him.

"What the hell is your problem?"

His most innocent expression pasted on his face, Tommy holds up one end of the E. "String broke," he says. "Sorry about that."

He's not really, but he nods when Ross mutters, "Sucks when that happens."

"No kidding." Tommy goes over to his guitar case and makes a show of rummaging around inside. "Fuck."

"Don't tell me," Ravi drags a hand through his hair again, sounding tired. "You don't have a replacement."

"Nope." After a pause, Tommy adds, "Didn't think I'd need a second guitar for rehearsal either."

There's a moment when Tommy thinks Ravi's going to break and say something that will force him to act, but Ravi just shakes his head and gestures towards the argument they can still hear through the door. "Might as well pack it up, guys. Seems like rehearsal wasn't meant to be. I'll see what I can organize for later this week."

Justin and Ross grumble, but they start packing up. By the time Tommy's guitar is away, they're both saying goodbye and then it's just him, Isaac, and Ravi.

Leaning his guitar case against a post, Tommy checks on Isaac's progress in disassembling his drum kit then he goes over to Ravi.

"I'm gonna get Isaac home, take care of him," Tommy says. " _Properly_."

Ravi's mouth works, and he scrubs a palm over his scruffy jaw. He releases a breath in a whoosh of air and stares at Tommy. Tommy glares back, resting his weight on one leg, and folding his arms over his chest. Everything hangs between them for a few seconds until Ravi holds up his hands, surrendering.

"Not worth fighting over."

"Seriously?" Tommy allows all the disgust he's feeling to color that one word before saying, "Christ, I couldn't disagree with you more."

He turns his back on Ravi and goes over to kneel beside Isaac, startling him.

"I'm all done," Tommy says, placing a hand in the middle of Isaac's back. "Thought I'd help you get packed up and loaded."

"You don't have to." Every line in Isaac's body is as tight as the words he's forcing out.

"Hell, yeah, I do, because I need you to give me a ride home afterwards. Cabs are a damned expensive way of getting around this city."

"I can do that," Isaac says. He leans into Tommy briefly, and Tommy ruffles his hair.

Packing is routine after that. They've done it so many times after so many shows and rehearsals.

~*~

Tommy doesn't waste any time or energy thinking about how Isaac didn't protest when he held out his hands for the keys or turned off the radio. He fucking hates driving in LA — hates driving, period, if he's being honest. It's all he can do not to white-knuckle the steering wheel as he navigates the streets to Isaac's place.

By the time they've got Isaac's kit inside, Tommy still hasn't got a clue what happened between Isaac and Ravi. He's definitely not going to ask. Isaac's hovering on the edge, moving on habit alone, and the wrong question could lead to disaster.

"Change into something more comfortable," he suggests when Isaac just stands there after they've stacked the last drum case in what was supposed to be a dining alcove.

"Yeah, okay." Isaac nods. "I could do that."

"I'm going to find us something to eat," Tommy adds, wanting Isaac to know what's happening, but Isaac's already making his unsteady way towards the bedroom.

All those nights tossing and turning — sleeping being a fucking pipe dream — on Isaac's lumpy couch after movie marathons mean Tommy knows his way around. He opens the fridge and pulls out a jar of that green juice shit Isaac likes so much. He pours out a glass of it and places that on Isaac's only tray, a metal one painted over like it was Elvis on black velvet.

Perusing the mostly bare shelves, he adds cheese, some kind of sliced chicken or turkey, an opened Tupperware of cut veggies, and some grapes. Giving the green shit the evil eye, he fills a couple of glasses with filtered water.

He puts the tray down and then adjusts the coffee table so it's in easy reach. He's just settled himself at one end of the couch, leaning back against the arm with his legs stretched out in front of him, when Isaac wanders into the living room.

Isaac's hair's still damp and sticking up a bit around his face. He's bare-chested now, and Tommy has to bite his tongue not to snarl at the red lines that cut across Isaac's stomach and disappear beneath the waist of the yoga pants that hang low across Isaac's hips.

"Come here." Tommy beckons to him and finds a half-assed smile for Isaac who is sinking down into a half-lotus on the floor at Tommy's feet.

"Not hungry," Isaac murmurs even as he shifts around so he's facing Tommy and the coffee table.

"Yeah, but you need to eat."

After giving it a second, Tommy reaches out with his other hand and snags a piece of cheddar. Isaac opens his mouth and lets Tommy feed him. Not even touching Tommy's fingers with his lips, tongue or teeth, as he takes the cheese.

"So good," Tommy says, without even thinking, because Isaac is amazingly good.

Isaac hums in acknowledgment.

They stay like that for a while. Tommy talks about music, about his latest MASH marathon, rambling on and not worrying too much about making sense. Isaac sometimes adds in a comment or makes agreeing noises, but mostly he just listens and eats what Tommy offers him.

Occasionally Tommy hands Isaac the glass of green shit or the glass of water, not attempting to hold it for him from this angle. That takes a level of trust Tommy is damn sure Isaac doesn't have for anyone right now.

At that thought, Tommy grits his teeth and pauses, struggling for control again. Isaac doesn't need his anger. He needs calm and comfort and acceptance. Tommy's almost there, almost feeling like he can safely open his mouth again, when Isaac leans over and rests his head against Tommy's leg.

 _Fuck_. Tommy blinks as he shifts down enough that he can place a hand on Isaac's head. His hair is soft, without any of the product that Tommy uses. He strokes Isaac's hair, running his hand down to the back of Isaac's neck before ruffling his way back up again.

When the tension eases out of Isaac's muscles, Tommy tugs lightly on his hair. "Come on up here."

Isaac lifts his head slowly and looks up at Tommy. His gaze is careful, considering.

"Okay," Isaac says. He gets up slowly, as if his body aches, but he's clearly more grounded, more centered than he was.

Adjusting his own position so they can be more comfortable, Tommy guides Isaac to curl up between his legs and rest against his chest before wrapping his arms around him. He kisses the side of Isaac's head. "I've got you."

"I know," Isaac says, and brushes his lips over Tommy's neck.

They're not there, nowhere near, Tommy knows, but he has to swallow against a lump in his throat as something like hope opens up inside him.


End file.
